


Alexander Versus Fandom

by galaxysoup



Category: Galaxy Quest (1999)
Genre: Fandom history, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:08:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxysoup/pseuds/galaxysoup
Summary: Five fan interactions that flopped and one that got a curtain call.
Comments: 82
Kudos: 250
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	1. (Image heavy)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [paranoidangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranoidangel/gifts).



> This fic is, in reality, one chapter long - it contains a lot of images (which I have hopefully successfully added decent screen reader descriptions to) but since not everyone reads fics on a nice big screen and some of the fonts might be hard for some readers to understand, the second chapter is the same fic again but in plain text. Hopefully this will also provide some insulation from the fluctuations of image-hosting services over long periods of time!

* * *

**ONE**

* * *

Alexander had been skeptical when his agent had presented him with the space adventure TV show, had been downright dour about it during filming, and had greeted its inevitable cancellation with barely-concealed relief. He’d only done it in the first place because his agent had spun him glorious pictures of his skyrocketing career once he’d become Visible and his name was Known In The Industry.

And, fair enough, two weeks after the excruciatingly awkward final wrap party, Alexander is indeed headed to an audition with a film director who might not technically be _someone_ but is at least _someone_ -adjacent. He’ll be auditioning for the main role in a psychological thriller, which sounds like it could be exactly the kind of meaty, interesting acting he’d often longed for while dodging styrofoam boulders and listening to Nesmith’s terrible inspirational speeches.

He punches the call button on the elevator and sighs a little. Honestly, lofty ambitions aside, he’d probably take any acting job right now that didn’t call for a full-head prosthetic and be grateful for it. That thing had been a _trial_. 

(He may have thrown the last one in a dumpster after the final “Cut!”. There may have been fire involved.)

The elevator deposits him on the correct floor, and he takes a moment before going into the office to adjust his posture and expression. His character is a trained lawyer, an accomplished and confident man, and he should project the same aura. He’s done as much reading about law and psychology as he could cram in since his agent called him with the audition details. He’s _got_ this.

* * *

He doesn’t have this. This is nowhere in the realm of being his, or what he expected, or anywhere in the neighborhood of okay.

“...I beg your pardon?” He says, as politely as possible.

The director leans over the table towards him, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Just between us! Colleague to colleague. What happens in the finale? How detailed was the spaceship set? Did the writers actually consult with NASA? Was Commander Taggart - I mean Jason Nesmith, ha ha - _amazing_ to work with?”

“He was fine,” Alexander says, mustering every ounce of self-control he has. “About the audition…?”

“Oh, that,” the director waves it off. “Honestly, I mostly just wanted a chance to talk to you, you’re not really the direction we’re going in. But about the show -”

“I’m sorry,” Alexander says, standing up. “I only discuss those sorts of things with colleagues, and since we’re not going to be working together I see no reason to continue this conversation. Have a pleasant day.”

He makes it to the elevator before the horror and regret set in, and spends half the ride with his forehead against the wall making noises he will never admit to later. Did he just ruin everything? Why did he _say_ that? That director might not have been _someone_ but he was - he was _someone_ -adjacent, Alexander’s agent had said so, what if he tells people that Alexander is - is difficult, or whatever - 

No. Breathe. That director had been unprofessional and out of line. Alexander was justified in his reaction, wherever the fallout may be. It’s too soon since the end of the show, is all - the final episode hasn’t even aired yet! - and he just happened to run into one of the ten people who actually got invested in it. It’s - it’s fine. He’ll be fine.

Are the others having this problem too? Nesmith would probably enjoy it - Alexander’s long had reservations about Nesmith’s tendency to over-invest himself in roles (while also having very little interest in acting as a craft? Honestly, the man is a puzzle), so he’s a bad person to ask. Fred is - well, honestly, Alexander’s never really understood _what_ is going on with Fred, but he thinks it may be herbal in nature. Tommy’s a child and Alexander doesn’t know his parents well. But Gwen - he has Gwen’s number, and she’s reasonably grounded, for an actress.

He spots a payphone and heads for it, digging his address book out of his pocket. Gwen answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Gwen, it’s Alexander. My apologies for calling you out of the blue this way, but have you done any auditions since the show ended?”

”Yeah, I have,” Gwen says, sounding a little wary.

“Have they been...” Alexander gropes for the word. Suddenly explaining this seems extremely foolish. What if Gwen’s career is on the rise now? She’s attractive and female and well-endowed. Alexander is, quite frankly, British in America, and probably destined for a lot of stock villain roles.

He falters. “What I mean is, was the casting director - did they seem -”

“They asked me to come in my _Quest_ uniform,” Gwen says, all in a rush.

Alexander experiences a strange and unwelcome combination of relieved fellow feeling and dread about the future. “Oh no.”

“Alexander,” Gwen says, sounding tired, “I think we should meet for a drink.”

* * *

* * *

**TWO**

* * *

Being around the cast again is deeply weird.

Not Gwen - he and Gwen have established something approaching a friendship since the end of the show, and it’s all down to her that this is happening at all, really. And he _is_ grateful to be included - the money is nothing to sneeze at, especially when you’re living in a one-room third-floor walk-up and teetering on the edge of having to find a waitstaff job to afford it. And honestly, it doesn’t sound too bad - she says there will be some panel talks, and he’ll sign some autographs and meet some fans. 

He’s hoping someone will bring up Shakespeare. Or maybe an obscure bit of acting theory that Nesmith won’t recognize, thus allowing Alexander to hold forth on the craft dearest to his heart with educated and like-minded people while Nesmith stews in confusion and regrets his life choices.

(Okay, he isn’t really expecting that last one, and he feels a little mean for even thinking it. Nesmith isn’t that bad, really. So what if TV Guide, Omni, _and_ Teen Beat had printed full-page spreads of Nesmith and only group shots of the rest of them? Alexander is over it. He’s The Bigger Man. Nesmith’s hair had looked stupid.)

The line outside the hotel is Alexander’s first clue that ‘convention’ might mean something a little different when put in context with ‘GalaxyQuest’. There are people with signs. And costumes. Someone even brought a toddler in a stroller mocked up to look like the _Protector_.

Alexander begins to feel a teeny, tiny amount of dread, and a sneaking suspicion that maybe this money won’t be worth it. 

His second clue is the way Gwen pastes on a stage smile when she sees him and says, “Alexander, I’m so glad you could make it! Hey, you took a class on stage makeup, right? Did it cover prosthetics?”

Extra details filter in, like the rack of _Quest_ uniforms against the wall and the Doctor Lazarus headpiece sitting innocently on a styrofoam head by the vanity.

“ _No,_ ” Alexander says, cruelly betrayed. He did, in fact, take a class. He took _several_ because he is a _serious artist_.

Gwen’s stage smile falters and starts to look a little worried. Alexander hardens his heart. So what if Gwen has been corresponding with fans and marshalling the cast to set this up. So what if he happens to know, thanks to their occasional cocktail nights, that she needs this as much as he does.

Who needs working electricity anyway? And he can get rid of his phone! There’s a payphone outside the bar on the corner of his street!

“Alex,” Gwen says, lowering her voice. “Please? I don’t want to do this by myself.”

Alexander surveys the list of her potential allies - Nesmith, unperceptive; Fred, unconcerned; Tommy, staring down the double barrels of puberty.

Him.

He sighs and gives in. His head is already starting to itch and he hasn’t even put the blasted skullcap on. “Fine. But only this once.”

* * *

The convention is even more surreal than Alexander had thought it would be.

The women running it are, he will allow, extremely organized and far more professional than he would have expected from fans of a science fiction show of moderate to dubious quality. The attendees are…

Well, they’re…

Passionate? Definitely passionate. He’ll go with passionate. For God’s sake, he’s met no fewer than seven people with homemade Doctor Lazarus headpieces. Alexander doesn’t even want to be wearing his and he’s getting _paid._. And that’s not even getting into the people who are dressed, with varying degrees of accuracy, as aliens the crew met on various planets, sometimes only for a scene or two, or the ones who have gotten even more creative and come in costume as the Omega-13 Device, or the landing shuttle, or Doctor Lazarus’s scanner.

It is both awe-inspiring and disturbing. Alexander appreciates passion in others, but dear Lord. He hadn’t even been this passionate about the show _while he was filming it_.

He sneaks a look at his co-stars. Nesmith, predictably, is eating it up. Gwen is gracious and warm, her smile getting a tiny bit more real every time it’s a female fan with something nice to say about how Tawny inspired her to take a chance or stand up for herself. Fred is… himself, which is to say laid back and possibly not entirely on this plane of existence. Tommy looks overwhelmed, but his mother seems to be keeping a close eye on him.

Alexander’s own fans seem to be a mix between those interested in hard science and those interested in the possibility of contact with alien life. And they keep asking him to say the same line from the show, which is odd. He hadn’t considered Doctor Lazarus to have a catchphrase, but apparently Grabthar’s Hammer has made an impression.

(Not a single person has asked him about his monologue from Episode 39. Not _one._ He’d worked on that for _weeks_. He’d taken inspiration from Cordelia in _Lear_ and would also welcome a discussion on the role of advisors to the powerful in Shakespeare’s works, but of course no one has asked him about that, either.)

“Will you sign my artwork?” The latest fan says, sliding a sheet of paper hopefully onto the folding table.

The first time a fan had requested that Alexander had been taken aback - why have someone else put their signature on something you’ve worked hard at? - but now he mostly feels numb to it. It’s an hour into the autograph segment and he’s also signed two cardboard scanners, someone’s headpiece, and too many convention ticket stubs to count.

He clicks his pen, looks down at the drawing, and promptly chokes on his own spit. It’s him-as-Lazarus and Nesmith-as-Taggart and they are several _magnitudes_ friendlier than he and Nesmith have ever been in real life. Or than Lazarus and Taggart ever were on the show, either - Alexander had admittedly gotten a bit tipsy at one or two of the cast parties and the less said about the time Fred Kwan had tampered with craft services the better, but he definitely would have remembered filming _this_.

It’s possible that Alexander dissociates after that for a moment. The next thing he knows he’s sitting under the vanity in the green room next to Fred, who’s patting him gently on the shoulder and saying “There, there,” in between bites of beef jerky.

“What happened?” Alexander croaks.

“You kind of screamed, man,” Fred says blandly. “I mean, not like a loud scream? But yeah. You kind of screamed.”

Alexander winces. “The fan?”

“Oh, fine,” Fred says, taking another bite of beef jerky. “Jason signed the picture instead. No harm done.”

Alexander makes a high-pitched sound he will disavow later.

“Hey, at least they drew you with abs,” Fred says, grinning. “Sure, the Commander’s were better, but he’s the leader, right? Stands to reason.”

The noise Alexander makes this time is a lot closer to a growl. Fred just laughs and finishes off his beef jerky.

* * *

* * *

**THREE**

* * *

Alexander goes back to theater. So what that he’d been tired of the schedule, the pressure, the routine? So what that he’d wanted to stretch his wings, explore other arenas?

The theater is in his blood. The stage _calls_ to him. A bored camera crew and unlimited takes can never compare with a packed audience and the adrenaline rush of live performance. Theater is where he _shines_. And maybe he thought he’d be a shoo-in as the complicated, villainous Le Vicomte de Valmont, and instead he’s… not, but that’s okay! He hasn’t been on stage in a few years, he can see why he’d need to work his way back to leading role status! Gwen, Fred, and Tommy had come on opening night and been very complimentary. (Okay, Tommy had said he “didn’t totally suck”, but for a teenager that’s practically a fan letter.)

He doesn’t quite say “You’ve got this,” to his reflection in the green room mirror he shares with several Ensemble members, but he does give himself a highly significant look. It helps some.

It helps even more when one of the stage hands says “Hey, Alexander? There are some fans waiting for you by the stage door, just fyi.”

Fans? For him?? It’s only the second week of the show!

* * *

He really, really should have predicted that they’d all be wearing _Quest_ uniforms.

* * *

* * *

**FOUR**

* * *

The first convention had been entrapment. The second had been the lure of a friend of a friend of Gwen’s who was putting together a production of _Much Ado About Nothing_ and was definitely going to be there. The third had been the lure of a friend of a friend of Jason’s who was putting together a production of _Troilus and Cressida_ and was maybe going to be there. The fourth had been because Tommy needed a ride, and also wanted to ask Alexander questions for his English paper on _Death of a Salesman_. 

By the fifth, Alexander figures he’s probably just dead inside. By the… 

What is it now, seventh? Eighth? 

“Not counting,” Fred says, shrugging.

By the ninth… God, he doesn’t even remember negotiating. He’s pretty sure Gwen called and he just packed his bag without even thinking it through. That’s appalling.

“I don’t know why you’re so sour about these!” Jason says, all careless bonhomie as if he wasn’t half an hour late, receiving death glares from half the people in the room, and currently taking off a custom ‘I’m the Commander’ t-shirt with his own face on it in order to change into his _Quest_ uniform. “It’s a live audience. You love those!”

As if he would know. He’s never been to any of Alexander’s plays. Also: hello pot, meet hypocritical, narcissistic kettle.

“...Well, you love talking about them, anyway!” Jason laughs. Alexander mentally downgrades him from first-name status for the duration of the convention. 

He’s doing fine with his theater work. It’s been long enough that _GalaxyQuest_ is often only the second thing directors ask him about. He now lives in a _two_ -room third-floor walk-up, and technically it’s only a walk-up because the elevator is chronically broken and also older than any of the building’s inhabitants. He might not be excited about _every_ role he gets, but he’s working steadily and that’s a lot more than plenty of people can say. He’d always known he was probably more destined for villains or…

Oh God. Oh _God,_ he’s given up, hasn’t he? He’s accepted that this is what his life will be. He’s _settled_. He got his last two roles through industry word of mouth. He hasn’t even spoken to his agent in months.

(No! Not true. He’d gotten a birthday card. That counts, right?)

(No. That doesn’t _count._ He’s pretty sure the signature had been printed onto the card, even.)

“Alex, are you okay?” Nesmith says from considerably closer by than Alexander would like.

“No,” Alexander chokes out. “ _No_. I’m going home. I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Alex,” Nesmith says, putting a hand on each of Alexander’s shoulders and pushing him back down into his chair, radiating sincerity. “Never give up. Never surrender.”

Gosh. He hasn’t felt incandescent rage like this since… well, since two conventions ago, when Nesmith told a fan that Alexander only did theater because he was pretentious. “I will _murder you._ ”

Nesmith laughs and leans back. “If we don’t get out there I’m pretty sure Gwen will borrow Grabthar’s Hammer off of a fan and murder us both. Come on, Alex! Fans are waiting! You’re holding everyone up!”

“ _Murder,_ ” Alexander repeats. He lurches to his feet and stumbles after Nesmith, reaching for Nesmith’s neck, but before he can really embrace his character’s berzerker rage there’s a cheer from the fans that stops him in his tracks.

Damn. They’re on stage. Nesmith got him onto the stage, _and_ did it before Alexander could throttle him.

From the way he looks back at Alexander and winks, he’s very pleased with himself.

Gwen sidles up to him, smile firmly in place. “Alexander, are you okay? You look… kind of homicidal.”

Alexander manages an incoherent noise of pure fury.

Gwen sighs, long-suffering, and then steps forward to do Tawny Madison’s space martial arts move.

* * *

* * *

**FIVE**

* * *

Alexander’s not unused to emotional whiplash. Anyone who’s ever done a tragedy and had to segue smoothly from bawling onstage as the curtain comes down to smiling and waving for the curtain call a minute and a half later has worked out some coping strategies.

Going from the battle aboard the remade _Protector_ to near-certain-death in a shuttle crash to being onstage in front of hundreds of shocked but appreciative fans… that’s a bit much. Even Fred Kwan looks shaken, although the deathgrip he has on Laliari’s hand (...tentacle…? No, don’t think about it) seems to be helping him.

Somehow they make it through their stage introductions. Someone gives Jason a mic and he says things that Alexander vaguely recognizes as being complimentary and inclusive of his castmembers in a way he hasn’t been since the Season One pre-filming press junket. A bemused part of Alexander’s mind makes a note of the character development, marks the inevitability of the heroic leading couple kiss Jason shares with Gwen, keeps him from tripping too obviously over the rubble on the stage.

Someone ushers them offstage into a green room that’s mostly intact. There are reproduction _Quest_ uniforms - 

No. 

These are the real uniforms, the ones the Thermians made had been fake, even if they’d been more real than the real ones.

Alexander stops. Breathes. Puts on the polyester jumpsuit and swaps out his ruined headpiece for a new one. He has trouble getting it to stick until he remembers to clean the blood off his head.

“The show must go on,” he says aloud. It’s possible he’s in shock. Are they really about to walk out and do an autograph line like everything is normal? That doesn’t seem right. There is a _crashed spaceship_ in the middle of the convention hall. Half the convention hall doesn’t have a ceiling! Why is everyone just soldiering on as if cons will be cons?

“Pedal to the metal,” Tommy says hollowly, and they share a look of deep commiseration.

And that, of course, is when the police, the state troopers, emergency services, the National Guard, and several men with commanding attitudes and suspiciously nondescript business suits show up.

* * *

It’s been hours. They’ve been questioned separately and in random combinations, as if Alexander + Gwen will be able to withstand torture but Alexander + Jason will crack and betray each other.

(Okay. Well. Maybe someone here has actually been paying attention. Thursday Alexander might have, even if Today Alexander won’t unless it’s part of a bigger plan.)

Currently he’s with Tommy, and they’ve been pointedly left alone as if neither of them have ever seen a cop show and don’t know that there are probably six spooky government people behind that surely-only-one-way mirror waiting for them to start chatting about… god, Alexander doesn’t even know what kind of lie the agents are hoping to catch them in. The past few days have been so unbelievable that they’d all spilled their guts immediately and indiscriminately.

The door opens and a woman comes in. She’s not in a suit, she’s wearing jeans and a blazer and a t-shirt that says, if Alexander’s stunned brain is reading it correctly, _Never trust an atom - they make up everything_.

She’s also beaming at them like they came back from space with a whole box of adorable space kittens just for her.

“Hi!” She says. “I’m Dr. Gillian Taylor. I’m from NASA.”

* * *

So. Here is, roughly, what happened:

Somehow, presumably by plumbing previously undiscovered depths of his charisma, ability to bullshit, sheer gall, and heretofore undisclosed acting talent, Jason Nesmith managed to convince the government that, now that extraterrestrial life had been very definitely and publicly confirmed, it was in their best interests to get people on board with that fact as quickly as possible. A world in contact with aliens, he argued, would need to have a whole range of people in a whole range of fields who a) believed in aliens, b) wouldn’t freak out upon meeting aliens, and c) were as up-to-speed as possible on the realities of aliens.

(“And you listened to him?” Alexander asked, not entirely sure he wasn’t in shock and hallucinating.)

And the best way to do _that_ , Jason had argued, was to reboot _GalaxyQuest_...

(“Are you kidding me,” Tommy asked, probably worried about the same thing Alexander was.)

...as a lightly fictionalized educational documentary program.

(“Are you _fucking_ kidding me,” Tommy and Alexander said in unison.)

“So here we are,” Dr. Taylor says, spreading her hands. “There’s a lot more negotiation happening, obviously, but it’s a good idea. We’re all on board.”

“Oh my God, he’s actually useful,” Tommy says faintly.

“This is going to be terrible,” Alexander says, stunned by the same realisation.

“What’s he still negotiating?” Tommy asks.

“Well, I mostly stopped listening once it started being less about space and more about contracts,” Dr. Taylor says cheerfully. “But he said Ms. DeMarco would want more female characters, which works out nicely because Laliari - I’m afraid I don’t know what honorifics her people use - would be an excellent first introduction to friendly alien species for viewers. And he said you would want to write and direct at least one episode, Mr. Dane.”

“This is going to be amazing,” Alexander says, his imagination coming to life for what feels like the first time in years.

“There was a lot more after that, I’m sure he’ll tell you about it. I just…” she stops, looking a little embarrassed. “Well. I’m probably not going to be directly involved after this, so I just wanted to take the opportunity to say…”

She meets Alexander’s eyes. She folds her hand into a fist over her heart.

With a sinking sensation, Alexander realises exactly what is heading his way, with roughly the same weight and mass as a freight train. Dr. Taylor isn’t Quellek in a multitude of ways, but she has dark hair cut into bangs across her forehead, and her eyes are alight with wonder and enthusiasm and belief, and it’s been the single longest day of his entire life, and she’s saying the goddamn line.

“By Grabthar’s Hammer, by the Sons of Warvan -”

Alexander bursts into messy, dramatic, and completely unplanned tears.

* * *

* * *

**THE CURTAIN CALL**

* * *

It’s amazing how incognito he is without the headpiece. 

He works his way into the scrum of con attendees and folding tables known as ‘Artists Alley’, eyeing his surroundings until he spots what he’s in search of. Realistic, but softly artistic; respectful, but expressive. He edges through the crowd until he can approach the table. 

“Excuse me, may I have a moment of your time?”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I go through Alan Rickman’s IMDB page and match up his real-life roles with Alexander’s fictional auditions?
> 
> Yes. Yes I did. Everyone is welcome for that classic piece of unnecessarily detailed worldbuilding.
> 
> Conversely, I did use some authorial caveat with the timeline of this - although the movie doesn’t give an explicit timeline, through context clues it’s probably happening in about 2000. I’ve telescoped that out a few years further in order to get more fandom history into the story.
> 
> Finally, since GalaxyQuest is itself a loving ode to Star Trek fandom, I couldn’t resist including a couple of little easter eggs in this story. I’ll list them here, in case anyone’s interested.
> 
> ONE: Brandon doesn’t have a last name in the movie or the end credits, so I named the writer of the second fanzine letter after Brandon’s actor. It amused me to imagine that his mom (or maybe an aunt) was a secret OG fan of the show. Also, in the early 80s Alan Rickman was indeed in a psychological thriller and did play a lawyer.
> 
> THREE: Alan Rickman actually did play the Vicomte de Valmont onstage in a production of Les Liaisons Dangereuses at about this time.
> 
> FOUR: _Troilus and Cressida_ is, objectively speaking, the very worst Shakespeare play. That’s how desperate Alexander is.
> 
> FIVE: Yes, I did name the NASA scientist after the marine biologist from Star Trek IV. Also, the original cut of _GalaxyQuest_ contained two swear words, shit and fuck, said by Tommy and Gwen respectively, which were then cut out to get a lower rating. In that spirit, I have allowed the main characters the use of precisely one f-bomb.


	2. (Plain text)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the plain text version of the story in the first chapter.

* * *

**ONE**

* * *

Alexander had been skeptical when his agent had presented him with the space adventure TV show, had been downright dour about it during filming, and had greeted its inevitable cancellation with barely-concealed relief. He’d only done it in the first place because his agent had spun him glorious pictures of his skyrocketing career once he’d become Visible and his name was Known In The Industry.

And, fair enough, two weeks after the excruciatingly awkward final wrap party, Alexander is indeed headed to an audition with a film director who might not technically be _someone_ but is at least _someone_ -adjacent. He’ll be auditioning for the main role in a psychological thriller, which sounds like it could be exactly the kind of meaty, interesting acting he’d often longed for while dodging styrofoam boulders and listening to Nesmith’s terrible inspirational speeches.

He punches the call button on the elevator and sighs a little. Honestly, lofty ambitions aside, he’d probably take any acting job right now that didn’t call for a full-head prosthetic and be grateful for it. That thing had been a _trial_. 

(He may have thrown the last one in a dumpster after the final “Cut!”. There may have been fire involved.)

The elevator deposits him on the correct floor, and he takes a moment before going into the office to adjust his posture and expression. His character is a trained lawyer, an accomplished and confident man, and he should project the same aura. He’s done as much reading about law and psychology as he could cram in since his agent called him with the audition details. He’s _got_ this.

* * *

He doesn’t have this. This is nowhere in the realm of being his, or what he expected, or anywhere in the neighborhood of okay.

“...I beg your pardon?” He says, as politely as possible.

The director leans over the table towards him, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Just between us! Colleague to colleague. What happens in the finale? How detailed was the spaceship set? Did the writers actually consult with NASA? Was Commander Taggart - I mean Jason Nesmith, ha ha - _amazing_ to work with?”

“He was fine,” Alexander says, mustering every ounce of self-control he has. “About the audition…?”

“Oh, that,” the director waves it off. “Honestly, I mostly just wanted a chance to talk to you, you’re not really the direction we’re going in. But about the show -”

“I’m sorry,” Alexander says, standing up. “I only discuss those sorts of things with colleagues, and since we’re not going to be working together I see no reason to continue this conversation. Have a pleasant day.”

He makes it to the elevator before the horror and regret set in, and spends half the ride with his forehead against the wall making noises he will never admit to later. Did he just ruin everything? Why did he _say_ that? That director might not have been _someone_ but he was - he was _someone_ -adjacent, Alexander’s agent had said so, what if he tells people that Alexander is - is difficult, or whatever - 

No. Breathe. That director had been unprofessional and out of line. Alexander was justified in his reaction, wherever the fallout may be. It’s too soon since the end of the show, is all - the final episode hasn’t even aired yet! - and he just happened to run into one of the ten people who actually got invested in it. It’s - it’s fine. He’ll be fine.

Are the others having this problem too? Nesmith would probably enjoy it - Alexander’s long had reservations about Nesmith’s tendency to over-invest himself in roles (while also having very little interest in acting as a craft? Honestly, the man is a puzzle), so he’s a bad person to ask. Fred is - well, honestly, Alexander’s never really understood _what_ is going on with Fred, but he thinks it may be herbal in nature. Tommy’s a child and Alexander doesn’t know his parents well. But Gwen - he has Gwen’s number, and she’s reasonably grounded, for an actress.

He spots a payphone and heads for it, digging his address book out of his pocket. Gwen answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Gwen, it’s Alexander. My apologies for calling you out of the blue this way, but have you done any auditions since the show ended?”

”Yeah, I have,” Gwen says, sounding a little wary.

“Have they been...” Alexander gropes for the word. Suddenly explaining this seems extremely foolish. What if Gwen’s career is on the rise now? She’s attractive and female and well-endowed. Alexander is, quite frankly, British in America, and probably destined for a lot of stock villain roles.

He falters. “What I mean is, was the casting director - did they seem -”

“They asked me to come in my _Quest_ uniform,” Gwen says, all in a rush.

Alexander experiences a strange and unwelcome combination of relieved fellow feeling and dread about the future. “Oh no.”

“Alexander,” Gwen says, sounding tired, “I think we should meet for a drink.”

* * *

**NSEA Lettercol, Volume 6**

Dear Fellow Questerians,

I, like all of us, love the show and world that it built for us, and it is with sadness that I write this. I recently had the opportunity to meet Alexander Dane in person - our own Doctor Lazarus! - and I am sad to say that he does not seem to appreciate the passion with which fans of the show regard its legacy. Fellow fans beware - if you also get the chance to meet him, don’t expect a warm and enthusiastic meeting of the minds or an opportunity to dig deep into the minutiae of GalaxyQuest. Granted, I only met him once, and he may have been having a bad day, but I still feel there was a level of unprofessionalism in his rudeness.

I’ve heard that Jason Nesmith is wonderful with fans, though, so don’t let one sour actor dim your enthusiasm!

C. D.  
New York, NY

My Fan Friends,

I have to register some dismay with the general consensus of the fan-name ‘Questerians’. Galaxy Quest is not a western, why are we naming ourselves something that sounds so close to ‘equestrian’? The closest the show comes to having anything horse-related are the aliens in Episode 28, and I will fight anyone who makes the argument that spaceships are analogous to horses in the future. They are clearly supposed to be analogous to SHIPS, as in SAILING SHIPS. In my opinion, we would be better served to riff off of ‘Galaxy’ or perhaps ‘Protector’. Thoughts?

Miranda Long  
Sacramento, CA

* * *

**TWO**

* * *

Being around the cast again is deeply weird.

Not Gwen - he and Gwen have established something approaching a friendship since the end of the show, and it’s all down to her that this is happening at all, really. And he _is_ grateful to be included - the money is nothing to sneeze at, especially when you’re living in a one-room third-floor walk-up and teetering on the edge of having to find a waitstaff job to afford it. And honestly, it doesn’t sound too bad - she says there will be some panel talks, and he’ll sign some autographs and meet some fans. 

He’s hoping someone will bring up Shakespeare. Or maybe an obscure bit of acting theory that Nesmith won’t recognize, thus allowing Alexander to hold forth on the craft dearest to his heart with educated and like-minded people while Nesmith stews in confusion and regrets his life choices.

(Okay, he isn’t really expecting that last one, and he feels a little mean for even thinking it. Nesmith isn’t that bad, really. So what if TV Guide, Omni, _and_ Teen Beat had printed full-page spreads of Nesmith and only group shots of the rest of them? Alexander is over it. He’s The Bigger Man. Nesmith’s hair had looked stupid.)

The line outside the hotel is Alexander’s first clue that ‘convention’ might mean something a little different when put in context with ‘GalaxyQuest’. There are people with signs. And costumes. Someone even brought a toddler in a stroller mocked up to look like the _Protector_.

Alexander begins to feel a teeny, tiny amount of dread, and a sneaking suspicion that maybe this money won’t be worth it. 

His second clue is the way Gwen pastes on a stage smile when she sees him and says, “Alexander, I’m so glad you could make it! Hey, you took a class on stage makeup, right? Did it cover prosthetics?”

Extra details filter in, like the rack of _Quest_ uniforms against the wall and the Doctor Lazarus headpiece sitting innocently on a styrofoam head by the vanity.

“ _No,_ ” Alexander says, cruelly betrayed. He did, in fact, take a class. He took _several_ because he is a _serious artist_.

Gwen’s stage smile falters and starts to look a little worried. Alexander hardens his heart. So what if Gwen has been corresponding with fans and marshalling the cast to set this up. So what if he happens to know, thanks to their occasional cocktail nights, that she needs this as much as he does.

Who needs working electricity anyway? And he can get rid of his phone! There’s a payphone outside the bar on the corner of his street!

“Alex,” Gwen says, lowering her voice. “Please? I don’t want to do this by myself.”

Alexander surveys the list of her potential allies - Nesmith, unperceptive; Fred, unconcerned; Tommy, staring down the double barrels of puberty.

Him.

He sighs and gives in. His head is already starting to itch and he hasn’t even put the blasted skullcap on. “Fine. But only this once.”

* * *

The convention is even more surreal than Alexander had thought it would be.

The women running it are, he will allow, extremely organized and far more professional than he would have expected from fans of a science fiction show of moderate to dubious quality. The attendees are…

Well, they’re…

Passionate? Definitely passionate. He’ll go with passionate. For God’s sake, he’s met no fewer than seven people with homemade Doctor Lazarus headpieces. Alexander doesn’t even want to be wearing his and he’s getting _paid._. And that’s not even getting into the people who are dressed, with varying degrees of accuracy, as aliens the crew met on various planets, sometimes only for a scene or two, or the ones who have gotten even more creative and come in costume as the Omega-13 Device, or the landing shuttle, or Doctor Lazarus’s scanner.

It is both awe-inspiring and disturbing. Alexander appreciates passion in others, but dear Lord. He hadn’t even been this passionate about the show _while he was filming it_.

He sneaks a look at his co-stars. Nesmith, predictably, is eating it up. Gwen is gracious and warm, her smile getting a tiny bit more real every time it’s a female fan with something nice to say about how Tawny inspired her to take a chance or stand up for herself. Fred is… himself, which is to say laid back and possibly not entirely on this plane of existence. Tommy looks overwhelmed, but his mother seems to be keeping a close eye on him.

Alexander’s own fans seem to be a mix between those interested in hard science and those interested in the possibility of contact with alien life. And they keep asking him to say the same line from the show, which is odd. He hadn’t considered Doctor Lazarus to have a catchphrase, but apparently Grabthar’s Hammer has made an impression.

(Not a single person has asked him about his monologue from Episode 39. Not _one._ He’d worked on that for _weeks_. He’d taken inspiration from Cordelia in _Lear_ and would also welcome a discussion on the role of advisors to the powerful in Shakespeare’s works, but of course no one has asked him about that, either.)

“Will you sign my artwork?” The latest fan says, sliding a sheet of paper hopefully onto the folding table.

The first time a fan had requested that Alexander had been taken aback - why have someone else put their signature on something you’ve worked hard at? - but now he mostly feels numb to it. It’s an hour into the autograph segment and he’s also signed two cardboard scanners, someone’s headpiece, and too many convention ticket stubs to count.

He clicks his pen, looks down at the drawing, and promptly chokes on his own spit. It’s him-as-Lazarus and Nesmith-as-Taggart and they are several _magnitudes_ friendlier than he and Nesmith have ever been in real life. Or than Lazarus and Taggart ever were on the show, either - Alexander had admittedly gotten a bit tipsy at one or two of the cast parties and the less said about the time Fred Kwan had tampered with craft services the better, but he definitely would have remembered filming _this_.

It’s possible that Alexander dissociates after that for a moment. The next thing he knows he’s sitting under the vanity in the green room next to Fred, who’s patting him gently on the shoulder and saying “There, there,” in between bites of beef jerky.

“What happened?” Alexander croaks.

“You kind of screamed, man,” Fred says blandly. “I mean, not like a loud scream? But yeah. You kind of screamed.”

Alexander winces. “The fan?”

“Oh, fine,” Fred says, taking another bite of beef jerky. “Jason signed the picture instead. No harm done.”

Alexander makes a high-pitched sound he will disavow later.

“Hey, at least they drew you with abs,” Fred says, grinning. “Sure, the Commander’s were better, but he’s the leader, right? Stands to reason.”

The noise Alexander makes this time is a lot closer to a growl. Fred just laughs and finishes off his beef jerky.

* * *

**Usenet**

Aug 16 1989, 7:09 pm  
Newsgroups: net.galaxyquest  
From: s...@uoregon.UUCP  
Date: Wed, 16-Aug-87 19:09:00 EDT  
Subject: QuestCon

Reporting back from the first but hopefully not the last QuestCon!

I’ve seen a bunch of people have written up the panels and the variety show already, so I’ll go straight to the juicy stuff: my interactions with the actors! I got to meet almost every one of them (Laredo didn’t sign for as long because he’s still just a kid and I think there are labor laws about it, but nobody minded because we were glad everyone was mindful of not making it too stressful for him). I don’t even want to talk about how long it took to stand in line, but it was totally worth it. I met a bunch of really great fellow fans while we waited, too. Honestly, the other fans were one of the biggest highlights for me!

I stood in line for Commander Taggart first, and he was just as nice as everyone always says he is. He noticed my insignia button and even placed it to the alternate dimension from episode 47! His line definitely took the longest to wait in, though, because he’s so chatty with everyone.

I stood in line for Lieutenant Madison next, and she was amazing. Con scuttlebutt was that she worked really hard with the organizers and was instrumental in getting the other actors to come, which is so cool! She was really lovely - she said my uniform jersey was better sewn than the real ones and drew a heart by my name when she signed my team poster.

Next up was Doctor Lazarus - his line moved the fastest, because he doesn’t really engage with fans that much. He was polite but kind of detached. I think his headpiece might have been bothering him. Plus I heard one of the other fans gave him some explicit art to sign and apparently he didn’t take it well. I don’t know much about it though. Honestly, I can’t believe that fan took such a risk - we’ve all seen what’s happened in other fandoms when creators get wind of fic or art they don’t approve of. Apparently Commander Taggart handled it well, though, so we’ve hopefully dodged a bullet there.

My favorite one I think was Tech Sergeant Chen - he was really chill and laid back, and it really felt like if there hadn’t been a whole long line behind me he would have happily chatted to me for hours. I asked a question about the engines and he said he didn’t know because it had never been in any of the scripts, but then he asked me what I thought the answer was and got really into it. I honestly think we might have co-written an entire fic about the engine room on the spot if one of the staff members hadn’t reminded him about the line! It was pretty great.

* * *

**THREE**

* * *

Alexander goes back to theater. So what that he’d been tired of the schedule, the pressure, the routine? So what that he’d wanted to stretch his wings, explore other arenas?

The theater is in his blood. The stage _calls_ to him. A bored camera crew and unlimited takes can never compare with a packed audience and the adrenaline rush of live performance. Theater is where he _shines_. And maybe he thought he’d be a shoo-in as the complicated, villainous Le Vicomte de Valmont, and instead he’s… not, but that’s okay! He hasn’t been on stage in a few years, he can see why he’d need to work his way back to leading role status! Gwen, Fred, and Tommy had come on opening night and been very complimentary. (Okay, Tommy had said he “didn’t totally suck”, but for a teenager that’s practically a fan letter.)

He doesn’t quite say “You’ve got this,” to his reflection in the green room mirror he shares with several Ensemble members, but he does give himself a highly significant look. It helps some.

It helps even more when one of the stage hands says “Hey, Alexander? There are some fans waiting for you by the stage door, just fyi.”

Fans? For him?? It’s only the second week of the show!

* * *

He really, really should have predicted that they’d all be wearing _Quest_ uniforms.

* * *

**Messageboard**

USER: HAUNTEDSHIP I’ve seen a lot of reports going around about the fan trip to Alexander Dane’s play in March and I just want to say: I was there, it wasn’t anywhere near as dramatic as people are making it out to be, and everyone needs to chill. Yeah, he was a little short when he came out of the stage door? But the man had also just finished acting in a two-hour play *and* he had a matinee that afternoon so he must have been exhausted. Not everyone can keep up Jason Nesmith levels of fan interaction.

USER: QUESTIE746 I eman, sure? But also how much energy does it take to smile and say ‘thanks for coming’? He could have gotten away with just saying the Grabthar’s Hammer line and walking away and everyone would have gone nuts.

USER: PHOTOFINISH Look, we all know Alexander’s not great with fans. I don’t know why everyone keeps getting all offended about it. The man plays a science alien, they hardly cast him for his warm and human personality.

USER: QUESTIE746 Whatever. He wasn’t even that good in the play.

USER: HAUNTEDSHIP He wasn’t *bad* either. Give him a break. Not everybody can transition from film to stage that easily.

USER: BILLIONSTARS Shows what you know - he got his start in stage acting! I heard he was even in a Shakespeare play. Richard something I think. I don’t know who he played though.

* * *

**FOUR**

* * *

The first convention had been entrapment. The second had been the lure of a friend of a friend of Gwen’s who was putting together a production of _Much Ado About Nothing_ and was definitely going to be there. The third had been the lure of a friend of a friend of Jason’s who was putting together a production of _Troilus and Cressida_ and was maybe going to be there. The fourth had been because Tommy needed a ride, and also wanted to ask Alexander questions for his English paper on _Death of a Salesman_. 

By the fifth, Alexander figures he’s probably just dead inside. By the… 

What is it now, seventh? Eighth? 

“Not counting,” Fred says, shrugging.

By the ninth… God, he doesn’t even remember negotiating. He’s pretty sure Gwen called and he just packed his bag without even thinking it through. That’s appalling.

“I don’t know why you’re so sour about these!” Jason says, all careless bonhomie as if he wasn’t half an hour late, receiving death glares from half the people in the room, and currently taking off a custom ‘I’m the Commander’ t-shirt with his own face on it in order to change into his _Quest_ uniform. “It’s a live audience. You love those!”

As if he would know. He’s never been to any of Alexander’s plays. Also: hello pot, meet hypocritical, narcissistic kettle.

“...Well, you love talking about them, anyway!” Jason laughs. Alexander mentally downgrades him from first-name status for the duration of the convention. 

He’s doing fine with his theater work. It’s been long enough that _GalaxyQuest_ is often only the second thing directors ask him about. He now lives in a _two_ -room third-floor walk-up, and technically it’s only a walk-up because the elevator is chronically broken and also older than any of the building’s inhabitants. He might not be excited about _every_ role he gets, but he’s working steadily and that’s a lot more than plenty of people can say. He’d always known he was probably more destined for villains or…

Oh God. Oh _God,_ he’s given up, hasn’t he? He’s accepted that this is what his life will be. He’s _settled_. He got his last two roles through industry word of mouth. He hasn’t even spoken to his agent in months.

(No! Not true. He’d gotten a birthday card. That counts, right?)

(No. That doesn’t _count._ He’s pretty sure the signature had been printed onto the card, even.)

“Alex, are you okay?” Nesmith says from considerably closer by than Alexander would like.

“No,” Alexander chokes out. “ _No_. I’m going home. I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Alex,” Nesmith says, putting a hand on each of Alexander’s shoulders and pushing him back down into his chair, radiating sincerity. “Never give up. Never surrender.”

Gosh. He hasn’t felt incandescent rage like this since… well, since two conventions ago, when Nesmith told a fan that Alexander only did theater because he was pretentious. “I will _murder you._ ”

Nesmith laughs and leans back. “If we don’t get out there I’m pretty sure Gwen will borrow Grabthar’s Hammer off of a fan and murder us both. Come on, Alex! Fans are waiting! You’re holding everyone up!”

“ _Murder,_ ” Alexander repeats. He lurches to his feet and stumbles after Nesmith, reaching for Nesmith’s neck, but before he can really embrace his character’s berzerker rage there’s a cheer from the fans that stops him in his tracks.

Damn. They’re on stage. Nesmith got him onto the stage, _and_ did it before Alexander could throttle him.

From the way he looks back at Alexander and winks, he’s very pleased with himself.

Gwen sidles up to him, smile firmly in place. “Alexander, are you okay? You look… kind of homicidal.”

Alexander manages an incoherent noise of pure fury.

Gwen sighs, long-suffering, and then steps forward to do Tawny Madison’s space martial arts move.

* * *

**Yahoo Groups**

From: QuesteriansUnite@yahoogroups.com  
Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Cast Interactions

Look, no one’s saying anything about their /characters/, all right? Stop taking this as an attack on the show! All Jen was worried about was the cast, as real people, having some issues. Obviously their private lives are their own business, no one’s arguing that, but anyone who was there could see the daggers the cast were looking at Jason Nesmith. We as fans love the man, he’s very generous with us, but you can’t deny he does hog the spotlight a little bit. I was there and for a second I genuinely thought Alexander Dane was going to strangle him. I mean we all know Alexander can be a little prickly, but he barely even spoke to anyone in the autograph line. He was too busy glaring at Jason. Even Fred Kwan was tense, and the man’s got a reputation for being unflappable for a reason! Poor Tommy looked like he was having to watch his parents fight in front of company.

* * *

**FIVE**

* * *

Alexander’s not unused to emotional whiplash. Anyone who’s ever done a tragedy and had to segue smoothly from bawling onstage as the curtain comes down to smiling and waving for the curtain call a minute and a half later has worked out some coping strategies.

Going from the battle aboard the remade _Protector_ to near-certain-death in a shuttle crash to being onstage in front of hundreds of shocked but appreciative fans… that’s a bit much. Even Fred Kwan looks shaken, although the deathgrip he has on Laliari’s hand (...tentacle…? No, don’t think about it) seems to be helping him.

Somehow they make it through their stage introductions. Someone gives Jason a mic and he says things that Alexander vaguely recognizes as being complimentary and inclusive of his castmembers in a way he hasn’t been since the Season One pre-filming press junket. A bemused part of Alexander’s mind makes a note of the character development, marks the inevitability of the heroic leading couple kiss Jason shares with Gwen, keeps him from tripping too obviously over the rubble on the stage.

Someone ushers them offstage into a green room that’s mostly intact. There are reproduction _Quest_ uniforms - 

No. 

These are the real uniforms, the ones the Thermians made had been fake, even if they’d been more real than the real ones.

Alexander stops. Breathes. Puts on the polyester jumpsuit and swaps out his ruined headpiece for a new one. He has trouble getting it to stick until he remembers to clean the blood off his head.

“The show must go on,” he says aloud. It’s possible he’s in shock. Are they really about to walk out and do an autograph line like everything is normal? That doesn’t seem right. There is a _crashed spaceship_ in the middle of the convention hall. Half the convention hall doesn’t have a ceiling! Why is everyone just soldiering on as if cons will be cons?

“Pedal to the metal,” Tommy says hollowly, and they share a look of deep commiseration.

And that, of course, is when the police, the state troopers, emergency services, the National Guard, and several men with commanding attitudes and suspiciously nondescript business suits show up.

* * *

It’s been hours. They’ve been questioned separately and in random combinations, as if Alexander + Gwen will be able to withstand torture but Alexander + Jason will crack and betray each other.

(Okay. Well. Maybe someone here has actually been paying attention. Thursday Alexander might have, even if Today Alexander won’t unless it’s part of a bigger plan.)

Currently he’s with Tommy, and they’ve been pointedly left alone as if neither of them have ever seen a cop show and don’t know that there are probably six spooky government people behind that surely-only-one-way mirror waiting for them to start chatting about… god, Alexander doesn’t even know what kind of lie the agents are hoping to catch them in. The past few days have been so unbelievable that they’d all spilled their guts immediately and indiscriminately.

The door opens and a woman comes in. She’s not in a suit, she’s wearing jeans and a blazer and a t-shirt that says, if Alexander’s stunned brain is reading it correctly, _Never trust an atom - they make up everything_.

She’s also beaming at them like they came back from space with a whole box of adorable space kittens just for her.

“Hi!” She says. “I’m Dr. Gillian Taylor. I’m from NASA.”

* * *

So. Here is, roughly, what happened:

Somehow, presumably by plumbing previously undiscovered depths of his charisma, ability to bullshit, sheer gall, and heretofore undisclosed acting talent, Jason Nesmith managed to convince the government that, now that extraterrestrial life had been very definitely and publicly confirmed, it was in their best interests to get people on board with that fact as quickly as possible. A world in contact with aliens, he argued, would need to have a whole range of people in a whole range of fields who a) believed in aliens, b) wouldn’t freak out upon meeting aliens, and c) were as up-to-speed as possible on the realities of aliens.

(“And you listened to him?” Alexander asked, not entirely sure he wasn’t in shock and hallucinating.)

And the best way to do _that_ , Jason had argued, was to reboot _GalaxyQuest_...

(“Are you kidding me,” Tommy asked, probably worried about the same thing Alexander was.)

...as a lightly fictionalized educational documentary program.

(“Are you _fucking_ kidding me,” Tommy and Alexander said in unison.)

“So here we are,” Dr. Taylor says, spreading her hands. “There’s a lot more negotiation happening, obviously, but it’s a good idea. We’re all on board.”

“Oh my God, he’s actually useful,” Tommy says faintly.

“This is going to be terrible,” Alexander says, stunned by the same realisation.

“What’s he still negotiating?” Tommy asks.

“Well, I mostly stopped listening once it started being less about space and more about contracts,” Dr. Taylor says cheerfully. “But he said Ms. DeMarco would want more female characters, which works out nicely because Laliari - I’m afraid I don’t know what honorifics her people use - would be an excellent first introduction to friendly alien species for viewers. And he said you would want to write and direct at least one episode, Mr. Dane.”

“This is going to be amazing,” Alexander says, his imagination coming to life for what feels like the first time in years.

“There was a lot more after that, I’m sure he’ll tell you about it. I just…” she stops, looking a little embarrassed. “Well. I’m probably not going to be directly involved after this, so I just wanted to take the opportunity to say…”

She meets Alexander’s eyes. She folds her hand into a fist over her heart.

With a sinking sensation, Alexander realises exactly what is heading his way, with roughly the same weight and mass as a freight train. Dr. Taylor isn’t Quellek in a multitude of ways, but she has dark hair cut into bangs across her forehead, and her eyes are alight with wonder and enthusiasm and belief, and it’s been the single longest day of his entire life, and she’s saying the goddamn line.

“By Grabthar’s Hammer, by the Sons of Warvan -”

Alexander bursts into messy, dramatic, and completely unplanned tears.

* * *

**LiveJournal**

USER: YEEHAWQUESTRIAN Okay guys, anyone who was at the con PLEASE CHECK IN. What the heck happened?? Is everyone okay??? We’re hearing things about a SPACESHIP?????

USER: NSEAFANSHIP Omg yes, I was there and it was wild, the spaceship literally crashed in through the convention center wall. There’s a really good writeup of it here but basically we all thought it was a crazy stunt at first, but then a bunch of law enforcement and creepy government types showed up???? The cast all looked like they’d been in a serious fight - Alexander Dane’e headpiece was literally in pieces and we all know how scrupulous he is about it usually - and after coming out of the ship they went backstage and VANISHED. I heard someone saw them being rounded up by people in suits. I mean sure some of them might have skipped the autograph line, but Jason and Gwen? NEVAR.

USER: GRABTHARSUNDERWEAR Wait are you saying the spaceship was real and they actually came back from space? Come _on_. We live in real reality, not teh world of teh show or whatever crap.

USER: TAWNYGRRL Omg I know. My reality is pastede on, right?

USER: COMMANDERLOVECRAFT That’s not even getting into the creepy alien dude that Jason DISINTEGRATED WITH A WORKING PHASER

USER: FANGYOU WAIT WHAT

* * *

**THE CURTAIN CALL**

* * *

It’s amazing how incognito he is without the headpiece. 

He works his way into the scrum of con attendees and folding tables known as ‘Artists Alley’, eyeing his surroundings until he spots what he’s in search of. Realistic, but softly artistic; respectful, but expressive. He edges through the crowd until he can approach the table. 

“Excuse me, may I have a moment of your time?”

* * *

**Tumblr**

[Ask, SgtChen ] Riki did I see your art in Alexander’s room in episode 14?

[Answer, RikiDraws ] Yes, that was mine!! I’m so glad you asked about it - I’ve been waiting to talk about it until the episode was out. Alexander Dane asked me for that personally!! He’d seen my art at NSEA Con and approached me to make the piece as set decoration for ep 14 (aka the ep that KILLED US ALL and made me cry real tears for Doctor Lazarus). He was really lovely to work with, actually - I kno he’s got a bit of a reputation with fans, but he was nothing but generous and courteous with me. He had a very specific idea for what Quellek should look like physically, but he left the actual art style up to me. And yes, that does mean that I got to find out ALL the details about Quellek’s storyline beforehand! He wanted me to have a really good understanding of Doctor Lazarus’s feelings. Honestly, the whole thing rates in my top five fan experiences to date.

And my art is IN AN ACTUAL EPISODE omg, I will never be over it. My children and my children’s children will carry this as a legacy. It will probably appear on my tombstone.

 **USER: HAMMERTIME** That’s so cool omg! I love that he put that much care into his episode. I hope he gets to write and direct a bunch more! ‘By Grabthar’s Hammer’ has never made me BAWL before

 **USER: LONGSLOWTRAINTONOWHERE** I love hearing this about him. You;re right that he has a bit of a reputation with fans, but honestly most of those stories are pretty old. We stan a grumpy king who respects his fans!

 **USER: ALEXANDERDANE** Riki, the honor was all mine. You truly blew me away with your professionalism and dedication to your art. That picture will remain in Doctor Lazarus’s quarters forever, so your children’s children and your tombstone should be well represented.

 **USER: DOCTORLAZYBONES** Um, was anyone going to tell me that DOCTOR LAZARUS WAS ON TUMBLR??????

 **USER: PEACHTREE** Oh shit you guys he can see us hide the porn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I go through Alan Rickman’s IMDB page and match up his real-life roles with Alexander’s fictional auditions?
> 
> Yes. Yes I did. Everyone is welcome for that classic piece of unnecessarily detailed worldbuilding.
> 
> Conversely, I did use some authorial caveat with the timeline of this - although the movie doesn’t give an explicit timeline, through context clues it’s probably happening in about 2000. I’ve telescoped that out a few years further in order to get more fandom history into the story.
> 
> Finally, since GalaxyQuest is itself a loving ode to Star Trek fandom, I couldn’t resist including a couple of little easter eggs in this story. I’ll list them here, in case anyone’s interested.
> 
> ONE: Brandon doesn’t have a last name in the movie or the end credits, so I named the writer of the second fanzine letter after Brandon’s actor. It amused me to imagine that his mom (or maybe an aunt) was a secret OG fan of the show. Also, in the early 80s Alan Rickman was indeed in a psychological thriller and did play a lawyer.
> 
> THREE: Alan Rickman actually did play the Vicomte de Valmont onstage in a production of Les Liaisons Dangereuses at about this time.
> 
> FOUR: _Troilus and Cressida_ is, objectively speaking, the very worst Shakespeare play. That’s how desperate Alexander is.
> 
> FIVE: Yes, I did name the NASA scientist after the marine biologist from Star Trek IV. Also, the original cut of _GalaxyQuest_ contained two swear words, shit and fuck, said by Tommy and Gwen respectively, which were then cut out to get a lower rating. In that spirit, I have allowed the main characters the use of precisely one f-bomb.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I go through Alan Rickman’s IMDB page and match up his real-life roles with Alexander’s fictional auditions?
> 
> Yes. Yes I did. Everyone is welcome for that classic piece of unnecessarily detailed worldbuilding.
> 
> Conversely, I did use some authorial caveat with the timeline of this - although the movie doesn’t give an explicit timeline, through context clues it’s probably happening in about 2000. I’ve telescoped that out a few years further in order to get more fandom history into the story.
> 
> Finally, since GalaxyQuest is itself a loving ode to Star Trek fandom, I couldn’t resist including a bunch of little easter eggs in this story. I’ll list them here, in case anyone’s interested.
> 
> ONE: Brandon doesn’t have a last name in the movie or the end credits, so I named the writer of the second fanzine letter after Brandon’s actor. It amused me to imagine that his mom (or maybe an aunt) was a secret OG fan of the show. Also, in the early 80s Alan Rickman was indeed in a psychological thriller and did play a lawyer.
> 
> THREE: Alan Rickman actually did play the Vicomte de Valmont onstage in a production of Les Liaisons Dangereuses at about this time.
> 
> FOUR: _Troilus and Cressida_ is, objectively speaking, the very worst Shakespeare play. That’s how desperate Alexander is.
> 
> FIVE: Yes, I did name the NASA scientist after the marine biologist from Star Trek IV. Also, the original cut of _GalaxyQuest_ contained two swear words, shit and fuck, said by Tommy and Gwen respectively, which were then cut out to get a lower rating. In that spirit, I have allowed the main characters the use of precisely one f-bomb.


End file.
